


Reality (Trigger Warning)

by MaddieWrites



Category: Septiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Hallucinations, I don't know what else to tag, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Metaphors, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2018-11-19 23:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 6,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11324148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddieWrites/pseuds/MaddieWrites
Summary: “It's okay.” Jack whispered. “Really, it's okay. You're okay. Mark, can you please put down the knife?”I'm going to remind you about that trigger warning in the tags and you're going to ignore me and read this story anyways. ready? Trigger warning.





	1. Reality

“It's okay.” Jack whispered, stepping forward slowly. “Really, it's okay. You're okay. Mark, can you please put down the knife?”  
Mark shook his head, pointing the weapon at Jack with a vicious fear in his eyes.  
“I won't hurt you, I promise. Just put the knife down.”  
“No!” Mark shouted, obviously terrified. His voice echoes through the small bathroom as he pulled his knees tighter against his chest, blood dripping from his left arm.  
“Alright, okay. Can I come closer?” Jack asked softly.  
Mark hesitated, studying him fearfully, but he nodded, lowering the knife a little.  
“Okay, just don't stab me.” The Irishman approached cautiously, kneeling next to Mark on the bathroom floor. “I won't hurt you. Can you put the knife down now?”  
“No.”  
“You can keep it right by you. Nothing's going to hurt you.”  
He hesitated before slowly letting go of the blade. It clattered to the floor, landing in the steadily growing pool of blood forming on the white tiles.  
“Thank you. Now, can I help take care of these cuts?”  
Mark nodded with a bit more confidence and Jack got out the first aid kit. He set to work bandaging Mark's wrist. There were a few shallow cuts, each one a neat, thin line. Four in total.  
“Why would you do this to yourself?” Jack tried to keep the worry out of his tone, but he couldn't. “/Why/?”  
“It makes Them go away.”  
“Makes what go away?” His eyes flooded with concern.  
“/Them/.” Mark hissed. He was staring just over Jack's shoulder, pressing his thumb into one of the cuts.  
“No, don't do that.” Jack eased Mark's hand away, glancing back over his shoulder to what Mark was looking at. Nothing. “No one's there.”  
“They're always there. /Always/... I needed a break. I just wanted /peace/. Can't I have peace?” Mark locked eyes with Jack, tears starting to flow.  
“I don't want you to hurt yourself, but I don’t want 'Them' to hurt you either. Are They people?” Jack wrapped the cuts as he spoke.  
Mark didn't look away from whatever was there, but he nodded, looking at least a little calmer.  
“Do They hurt you?” Jack asked gently.  
“Yes.” It was barely audible.  
“Can I see?  
“No. No one ever sees.” He sounded almost bitter, as if this had happened before.  
“Why can't I see Them when you can?”  
“I don't know.” Mark admitted. “But They're real.”  
“Well, what do they look like?”  
Mark didn't answer.  
“Are you.. Are you seeing them now?”  
He shook his head 'no'.  
“Okay, good. That's good. We'll take you to see someone, someone who knows how to make Them go away.” Jack promised. “You'll be okay.”  
Mark let out a yelp and grabbed the knife, pointing it at the door, which was still closed. He scurried back into the corner.  
“Leave me /alone/.” The American sobbed. He brought the knife to his forearm and Jack lunged for it, nearly cutting his hand in the process.  
“Don't! Mark don't! Give me the knife, please!”  
Mark looked between Jack and the steadily approaching 'Them'. He extended the knife handle first and Jack quickly took it. He could only watch as Mark curled up, clamping his hands over his ears and clenching his teeth. He let out a yell, crying out in pain and then there was nothing, just silence. Mark slowly raised his head, looking around.  
“Are They gone?” Jack asked gently. Mark took another cautious look around the room before nodding.  
“They don't stay around people long. They don't like other people.”  
“Did They hurt you?”  
Mark nodded, looking a bit ashamed.  
“It's okay. Can I see?”  
“No.”  
“Can I /try/ to see?”  
Mark pulled the collar of his shirt aside so Jack could see his shoulder. There was a clear outline of a hand, a dark bruise marring his skin.  
“They did that just now?”  
“You can see it?” Mark asked. There was something in his voice. It sounded like awe, almost hope.  
Jack nodded. “Yes. That's awful. Why would anyone want to hurt you?”  
“I don't listen to Them, so they hurt me.”  
“What do they tell you to do?”  
“Skip meals and stay away from people, stay off of the internet, don't upload, hurt myself. I listen to that one sometimes. If I do what They ask, They leave. If I don't...”  
“That's horrible. How many are there?”  
“Two.”  
“Do they have names?”  
“Amelia, Delilah, and Annie.”  
“That's three Mark. You said there were two.”  
“Oh... I guess there's three.”  
“So all three are girls? Do they look like us? Like normal people?”  
“Sort of. Amelia is really thin, like a skeleton with skin. Delilah has these... Claw marks on her arms, and she cries blood. Annie is always crying, but not blood. She doesn't hurt me, but the other two do, and Annie is terrifying.” Mark shuddered. Jack didn't know what to say, wanting to reassure his friend.  
“It's going to be okay. We'll figure it out.”  
Mark nodded, not really believing him.  
“I'm crazy, aren't I?” He sighed.  
“No, not if I can see the bruises. You didn't put them there, did you?” Jack asked.  
“No, Delilah did.”  
“Exactly. Then it's not in your head.”  
Mark looked up slowly. “What?”  
“If the bruises aren't in your head, neither is the beingthat made them.”  
“Y-You mean they're all real? They're in the real world?”  
“Yes, why?”  
“Th-They're standing right behind you.”


	2. I'm sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said there would be no chapter two? Well chapter three is on the way. I'm not really sure it's a good thing, but it's a thing. Hopefully I'll be... In a better place soon, and I won't want to write darker things like this. Until then, chapter three is coming soon! Sorry this is so short...

Mark let out a terrible scream, collapsing and tugging at his hair. Annie stood over him, just standing, watching as always. Her beautiful, hypnotic voice filled his head, begging him not to call Jack, to please just stay here alone or Jack would find out how messed up he was. She was right; she was always right. He would just scare Jack away. Alone was always best.  
Delilah was there too. She was calling him crude names, saying awful things. And she was right too. He was worthless. There was nothing here for him, no one here for him. This is why his dad left, why his mom kicked him out, why Jack could never love him. Mark was just a pathetic waste of space. He should just die already, do the world a favor.  
He should just die already... Do the world a favor. Mark stood, pushing past the hallucinations to get to his cabinet, his little box. Inside was everything. Everything he used to hurt himself, including a tiny bottle of 'just in case' pills. Sleeping pills. Wonderful medicine. There was more than enough to over dose. More than enough to do the world a favor. Enough. Enough...  
Mark put the box away, but not before taking the small bottle of pills from it. He stopped then, hesitated. Was he really ready to do this? Mark realized he was scared. He wasn't sure if he wanted to die... But... But this wasn't for him, he was doing this for Jack, for his mom, for Bob, Wade, everyone.  
That didn't stop Mark's hands shook as he took the pills, one by one. It didn't stop him from crying. Ten, fifteen. Should he leave a note? Would anyone want to see a note from him?  
Mark decided they deserved /something/ and he stumbled to his recording room. Mark collapsed in his chair, trying to make himself look presentable before he hit record. This was the last time they'd see him alive, so he brushed away his tears, ignoring the fear clenching in his gut. It was too late to turn back now. He'd already taken the pills. Mark smoothed his hair into place and hit record.  
"Hello everybody... It's-. It's Mark. I wanted you to know why I did this, that it wasn't your fault. There's nothing you could've done. There wasn't a single thing anyone could have done to change it... I needed this. I needed-. Please, forgive me. I'm sorry." Mark burst into tears. "You guys know I love you, right? And I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I couldn't-. I just couldn't. Just-. Just know I love you, so much." He ended the video before things got out of hand. It wasn't much but it was something. Mark sighed. He was getting tired now, but he still had a few minutes. A few minutes left to live, what do you do? What /could/ he do? What...?


	3. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a minor setback that I like to call 'The Author Is An Idiot', chapter three is here! Trigger warning but less of a trigger warning than before. Thanks so much for reading!!! Let me know what you thought in the comments!

"911 what is your emergency?"  
"I-I took some pills." Mark's voice shook as he spoke. He was fighting to stay awake, barely holding on.  
"Try to stay calm sir. What kind of pill did you take and how many?"  
"Sleeping pills. L-Like fifteen maybe. Oh God. I'm so sorry." He burst into tears all over again.  
"It's okay sir, please calm down. We'll get you some help. Can you tell me where you are?"  
Mark gave his address through tears.  
"Help is on the way. Can you stay on the phone with me until the paramedics get there sir? Sir are you there? Sir!"

 

"Hello everybody, my name is Markipler. I'm here today to tell you all what happened a few days ago... Now, there's no need to worry, I'm fine, but I did end up spending a few days in the hospital. Look, I'm going to be honest with you all; I haven't been in a great place recently. I haven't even been in an /okay/ place in a long time now. So, I was more stupid than normal, and selfish and an idiot... And I overdosed on sleeping pills. Please don't freak out, I'm okay. I got to the doctors in time and they fixed me right up, good as new. But... The reason I'm making this video in the first place is because a lot of you say that I saved you, which I don't always believe. I mean how can some dumb YouTuber making these stupid gaming videos save anyone? But, as I was sitting there waiting for the pills to kick in, I realized I had to decide how I wanted to spend the last few minutes of my life. I decided to get online and respond to tweets, look at fan art, read comments... And while I was doing all of this, I realized that I couldn't. I couldn't do this to you guys. You care so /much/, and you do all these wonderful things for me... I don't deserve you, but you don't deserve to have me take the easy way out and just give up either. So I called 911 and told them where I was, what had happened... I got treatment and I'm okay now. But the whole reason I'm making this is because a lot of you say that I saved you, but this time, it was /you/. It was /you/ who saved /me/. So, thank you. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for being here for me, for doing such amazing things. They don't go unnoticed, and I really do appreciate every single one of you. I always will... So, thank you all so much for watching. And, as always, I will see you in the next video. Bye bye."


	4. Chapter 1 Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This starts as a flashback to what happened right after chapter one and then picks up to when Mark's in the hospital. If you need to go back and reread, you are most certainly welcome to do so!

"Th-They're right behind you."  
"What?" Jack turned in a panic, seeing no one. For a moment, he almost relaxed, then something sliced his arm open.  
"Jack!" Mark grabbed him, pulling him out of the way. He stepped forward, putting himself between Jack and the threat.  
"M-Mark!" He felt a hand on his wrist, nails digging in, clawing at him.  
Mark ripped the hand off, shoving Delilah away.  
"Don't touch him!" He growled.  
Jack gasped as a new set of hands were on him. They weren't painful, but they were cold, frail. They were only getting colder, sending fever-like chills through him. The hands tugged at him weakly, sending a strong wave of nausea through him. Jack gagged, trying to push the hands off. For as gentle as they were, they held tight. A new wave of nausea washed over him and then Mark was pulling Amelia off, too.  
"You are in /my/ head! You do what /I/ tell you! Don't touch him!"  
To Jack's surprise, nothing else happened. No more hands grabbing, no new scratches or chills. Mark fell to his knees, and then there was nothing.  
"A-Are you okay?" Jack put a tentative hand on his friend's shoulder, not sure if he could touch him.  
"Yeah. I've-. I've never tried to control them before..."  
"Well maybe you're not as helpless as you seem to think." Jack smiled.  
"Did they hurt you?"  
"No, not really. Just some scratches. Nothing to worry about." He could still feel blood running down his arm, but he would live.  
"Good." Mark sighed. "Ugh, I wish they would just leave me alone!" He nearly shouted it, but he still sounded weak, and broken.  
"I know. If I could make them go away, I would but... Maybe you should see someone."  
"I can't Jack. I can't."

And that was the last time Jack had really talked to him. They'd said goodbye at the airport and then he was on a plane flying to Ireland. Now Jack was back on a new plane, heading to see Mark in the hospital. Wade had called and said Mark was alright, but he was in the hospital for what had to be a suicide attempt. They were all taking some time to visit him, but he thought Jack would want to know.  
He shouldn't have gone home so soon. He should've stayed, made sure Mark was okay before he left. Jack cursed at himself. He should have /stayed/. He should've stayed...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!!! More coming soon! Leave a comment if you liked it!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I don't have a good excuse. The next chapter will be faster. Thanks for reading.

"Hey, they, uh, they told me I could come see you now." Jack said gently, stepping into the hospital room and closing the door behind him. Mark looked up when he came in, surprise flashing over his face, along with what Jack could've sworn was regret.  
"What are you doing here?" Mark asked, shocked. Jack was on a plane headed to Ireland, last he knew.  
"I flew out after I heard you were in the hospital. Wade said you..." Jack looked him up and down, taking it all in. He looked different, not physically different, but something was off in his expression.  
"I tried to kill myself, yeah. Then I backed out and called 911."Mark sounded ashamed, like he regretted trying to kill himself. Or regretted choosing to back out...  
"Well I'm glad you're okay." Jack forced a smile. He didn't really know what else to say. The news of Mark's suicide attempt had been a huge shock, at least to him. He'd obviously thought Mark was alright. If he'd thought otherwise, he wouldn't have left in the first place. "What happened anyways?"  
"Ugh I just... I lost hope, I guess." Mark sighed, gazing out the window. He seemed upset, and he had a right to be. The hallucinations couldn't be easy to deal with, especially not alone.  
"You know you can always call me, right? I'll answer." Jack reminded him.  
"Thanks." He sighed, meeting Jack's eyes for a moment. "It's just when they're in your head telling you all these horrible things over and over..."  
"You start to believe them?"  
Mark nodded.  
"That's why you can call me. I can tell you they're not true."  
"Calling you isn't going to fix everything Jack!" He shouted suddenly, startling his friend.  
"Well, I know that, but I thought it might at least keep this from happening again." Jack tried to calm him. It wasn't Mark's fault anyways, he was just in a bad place  
"/This/!?! You think calling you can keep me from killing myself!?! I thought you were smarter than that!" This wasn't like Mark. He /never/ yelled, especially not at Jack. The hallucinations were really taking a toll on him. Of course, they'd take a toll on anyone.  
"Look, even if you're sure I can't help you, maybe someone else can. Just go talk to /somebody/, a therapist, psychiatrist." Jack was determined to keep this conversation on track, and that meant finding a way to help Mark.  
"I can't see a therapist. They'll lock me up." He sighed. He really was going crazy, wasn't he?  
"Then don't tell them about the hallucinations. Just tell them about the other stuff, please. You have to do /something/. If it was bad enough you decided to kill yourself..."  
"I'll think about it." Mark sighed, but only to shut him up.  
"You'll be okay." Jack assured him, reaching for his hand. Mark pulled it away.  
"You don't have to stay here." He said finally.  
"I want to." Jack decided.  
"Well I don't want you here, so you can go."  
"Mark, please, just-."  
"I said go!"  
Jack sighed and turned away after a moment, heading out. "Really, if you need anything at all, I'm here."  
"Of course you are." Mark grumbled, glaring at Delilah. He could hear Jack speaking to someone in the hallway before a nurse came in. Then the hall was quiet.  
"Mr. Fishbach, I have your lunch here." A smiling nurse set a tray on the table next to him. Right on cue, Amelia appeared over in the corner of the room, offering only a look of warning.  
Mark forced a smile. "Thanks."  
It wasn't until Annie appeared that he realised how long the next few days were really going to be. He wished he hadn't sent Jack out, he could've used the company through this.


	6. Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this isn't too far fetched for you guys. You've been so nice so far, thanks!

Mark was sick and tired of everyone treating him like he was made of glass, like he might break at any second. Yes, he'd tried to kill himself. Yes, the doctor said he was underweight and might have anorexia. Yes, that sounded pretty bad, but it wasn't /really/ his fault, and he didn't need to be babied.  
His viewers had been nothing but sweethearts ever since they'd found out. He'd told them he was seeing a therapist, and they'd believed him. He'd told them, more recently, that the therapist said he was doing a lot better. They believed that too. But the truth was these... Hallucinations, if that's what they even were, had been worse than ever. They'd started showing up around other people, something they'd never done before, and they weren't afraid to hurt him in public.  
He had guests over right now, but the hallucinations didn't seem to care. He fled the room to escape from Delilah. Jack would explain. Right now he needed to run.  
"Is he okay?" Wade watched him leave.  
"Yeah, he sort of has, um, these... Minor hallucinations sometimes. It's nothing to worry about. He's fine." Jack explained.  
"Hallucinations?"  
"Yeah, nothing too bad. Really he's fine."  
They heard Mark scream from upstairs.  
"I'll be right back." Jack bolted upstairs, leaving the others to sit there in a shocked silence. 

 

"So, Jack mentioned some sort of hallucinations." Wade wasn't hesitant to bring it up at dinner.  
"Well... I wouldn't call them that." Mark sighed. "They're more than hallucinations."  
"What are they?"  
"I don't know, but they need to leave me the Hell alone!" Mark threw a plate at the wall. It hit the wall and shattered, glass falling to the floor.  
"Mark?" Jack asked. "Who is it?"  
"Amelia!" He threw his cup. That hit the wall too. Mark grabbed an apple from the bowl in the center of the table and threw it. This time, Amelia caught it.  
The others could only stare in shock at the apple suspended in the air, watching as it floated over to Mark. He took the apple from her and set it down on the table.  
"M-Mark." Wade stuttered, standing.  
"You saw that?" He asked, looking from Wade to the apple.  
"/Yes/! Those are not hallucinations! How many are there?"  
"Three. Delilah, Amelia, and Annie."  
"Do they have last names?" Bob spoke up.  
"Um, yeah. Delilah Roberts, Amelia Peterson, and Annie McKibbin." Mark told him, looking a bit shaken now.  
"Do those names belong to real people? Look them up, see if they're real."  
"Why?"  
"As crazy as this may sound, they... They might be ghosts. Look them up."  
"W-What if they are ghosts?" Mark asked, pulling out his phone.  
"Then I guess we'll have to figure out how to get rid of them."


	7. Ghostly Googling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this answers a few of your questions, more will be revealed as the characters figure it out. I do feel obligated to remind you that not everything will be directly stated in this. Some things will be left for you to figure out. Thanks for reading!!!

"Okay, Delilah Roberts..." Mark tried to stay calm, typing the letters with shaking hands. "Delilah R-. That's her." He showed Jack the picture. "Of course, she looks a bit different now, but-."  
"'Local teen commits suicide after five year struggle with depression. Delilah Roberts, age seventeen, committed suicide last night by means of hanging after her five year battle with a mental illness... The teen's struggle was not a private one, as she gained support from her following on Twitter after telling them if the issues... But Roberts never received any professional help.'" Jack read.  
"Okay, Amelia Peterson..." He typed it in with shaking hands. "That one." Mark pointed.  
"'Amelia Peterson passed away last night from what has been declared malnutrition. The teen, age eighteen, was visiting from out of town and collapsed at a local establishment. Authorities say the teen appeared to be 'starving herself' and 'hadn't had anything to eat in weeks'. Peterson was rushed to the hospital where she received treatment, but she passed away later that night, around two AM. Friends say she was neither diagnosed with nor treated for anorexia or bulimia.'"  
"Okay. So she's a ghost too."  
"Try Annie."  
"Annie McKibbin..."  
Annie, who was now standing right behind Mark, selected an article.  
"'College student Annie McKibbin was found dead in her apartment yesterday morning. The girl, 21, had committed suicide after she was reportedly missing for weeks. Her peers say she suffered from severe anxiety, though no diagnosis was made and she was not being treated for any sort of mental illness. Sources say she would lock herself in her apartment for days or even weeks, and was often too afraid to go outside or drive alone.'" Mark read aloud. "So they're ghosts, great. How do I get rid of them?"  
"Well in the books and movies, they're usually here for a reason, because they want to tell us something. Well, tell /you/ something. Maybe they have something to show you."  
"Why haven't they shown me by now?" Mark asked.  
"Maybe they tried to, but you didn't get it?"  
"I don't know! If I didn't get it why don't they just tell me!?!"  
"Help." Delilah croaked, voice rough, as if the noose she'd hung herself with was still around her neck.  
"She said 'help'." Mark relayed the message.  
"Help? What does she need help with?" Wade asked.  
"If I knew, I'd have helped by now."  
"/Help/!" She shouted, pointing angrily at Mark.  
"I don't know how to help you! I'm sorry! I can't help you."


	8. Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the huge gap between uploads guys! Thank you so much for waiting, and reading!!! The next chapter will be faster.

"So, you think they want help finding peace?" Mark asked.  
"Yeah, I mean they obviously aren't at peace now. And they asked for help quite clearly. It's always what ghosts want in movies, why wouldn't it be what these ghosts want?" Jack asked.  
"Yeah, but why me? Why not someone else?"  
"Well it's not like just anyone can see ghosts. It makes sense that only certain people can. I mean, that's how it always works." He stated.  
"I don't know... That seems too easy."  
"Well they'd try and be as straightforward as possible. They want something, why wouldn't they just ask for it? She said 'help', so she obviously wants you to help her. Maybe help her rest in peace." Jack explained.  
"Well... I guess she isn't resting peacefully right now..." Mark reasoned.  
"Exactly. We just have to help them rest."  
"How do we do that?"  
"Well I think you should try talking to them, asking about it. They can clearly talk. They might tell you."  
"I just ask? Okay I guess. C-Can you leave for this part?" Mark blushed.  
"Sure. Just shout if you need me." Jack closed the door behind him.  
"Um... Hello? Are you guys there?" Mark asked softly. Delilah appeared, taking a step towards him. Her features were softer today, less gaunt, and though her face was still stained with blood red streaks from her tears, she wasn't currently crying.  
"W-What do you want?" He asked.  
"Help." She croaked.  
"You want me to help you rest, yeah?"  
She tilted her head to the side, taking a step towards him.  
"How do I do that?"  
She took another step, now standing uncomfortably close to him.  
"I need you to tell me what to do."  
Delilah reached up, caressing his cheek before dragging a nail over his skin, cutting him.  
"Ow!" Mark recoiled, stumbling back.  
"HELP!" Delilah's features changed, turning sharp and gaunt again. Her eyes glowed deep red as she lunged forwards, throwing Mark against the wall.  
"Jack! /Jack/!"  
She kept an arm pressed against his neck, cutting off his air supply while she dragged her nails up and down his arm, slicing up the skin.  
"Ah! Jack!" Mark tried to push her off to no avail. Jack ran into the room and Delilah vanished.  
"Are you okay? What happened?"  
"Get the first aid kit!"  
Jack ran from the room, fetching the kit and rushing back.  
"Alright, alright it's not that bad." Jack assured him. "She didn't get any arteries. Keep pressure on the cuts."  
Once he was all patched up, Jack made Mark hot cocoa and brought him extra blankets.  
"We'll fix this, don't worry. Get some sleep now." Jack climbed into bed with him, pulling him close. Mark nodded and closed his eyes. Maybe it would be okay. All they had to do is put the ghosts to rest. How hard could it be?


	9. Research

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long. I have no excuses, only sincere apologies... And a lot of problems that keep interfering with me uploading gosh darn it!

"So, asking them didn't work." Jack pondered. "Why don't we just look it up on the Internet? That's how we found out they were ghosts. Maybe they want us to look for it."  
"Maybe... Maybe we're getting it wrong."  
"Do you have a better idea?"  
"No..."  
"Then it's worth a shot."

They sat down, Mark at his laptop and Jack using a phone, and started searching. There was a lot to go through. Crappy horror stories, ouija board mishaps, weird shows about people hunting ghosts, semi-serious news articles about ghosts, and Supernatural fan advice flooded their search.  
"It says to try burning any DNA they may have left over, like the body." Jack said.  
"I don't know if we can do that. Can we just find where they're burried and burn them?"  
"I think that's illegal."  
"Well that won't work then..."

"I found an exorcism that looks legit, but it's more for possessions then hauntings." Mark admitted.  
"Might as well try it. What does it say to do?"  
Amelia threw the laptop across the room with a stern hiss.  
"Never mind." Mark sighed.

"There's all these warding symbols... I don't know if any are real, but..." Jack showed them to Mark.  
"I think that's the TV show again."  
"Damn it!"

"Ugh! All I'm finding is stuff on burning bodies!" Mark exclaimed.  
"Maybe it's time to take a break." Jack sighed. "Let's go grab a bite to eat. We can work on this later."  
Mark nodded, closing the laptop. 

"Look, I know that you can't exactly tell a therapist about the ghosts, but you're clearly depressed, and it looks like you've got anxiety and anorexia too. Therapists can help with those things. Maybe you should think about it." Jack suggested.  
"I don't have anorexia, and I don't need a therapist. I wouldn't have depression or anxiety if the ghosts weren't there."  
"Look, I'm just going to say it. I don't think that's quite true. Would you at least consider it?"  
"No, Jack I'm not crazy, I don't need a therapist."  
"We haven't found anything on how to get rid of these ghosts. Maybe we can target some of the actual mental issues here."  
"Maybe..."  
Jack sighed and returned to his food. Mark didn't end up eating that day.

"If anything at all happens, just call. I'll only be gone an hour."  
"Jack, you're going to the grocery store, not Narnia. I'll be fine." Mark grumbled. "I can be left alone for an hour."  
"I know... I just worry about you. I'll be back soon." Jack headed out, leaving Mark alone. He wondered into the kitchen to find it full of blood. Amelia's doing. A warning to stay out. He wouldn't be eating then.  
Mark headed back into the living room, sitting down and opening his laptop. There was a piece of paper resting on the keys. A business card for a therapist. Mark sighed, pocketing it. Maybe...


	10. Losing Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry for the wait, but I'm doing much better now. I think I've finally got everything sorted out. Thank you all so much for your support through this. It really, really helped. I hope you enjoy the new chapter, even though it's a little short...

Amelia had been having a hard time making Mark's life hell. All she really did was prevent him from eating, but this time, he'd stopped eating all on his own. Mark's real anorexia was spiking again. He hadn't eaten anything at all in over three days, and the little he had eaten offered almost no calories. Jack had noticed the change, the weight loss, but Mark blamed it on Amelia. This had convinced Jack it was out of his control, so the Irishman didn't try to intervene. He only brought it up when offering to call a therapist for Mark, which was always shot down. What could a therapist think of that Mark hadn't already tried? It was pointless.  
Mark knew trying not to cut was pointless too. He'd end up relapsing eventually. He couldn't even remember why he'd stopped. And why shouldn't he be allowed to do it? It offered him relief, something no one had been able to provide so far. He was holding on, for now, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold on, or what exactly he was holding on to. Lately it seemed like all hope was gone. Well, apparently not quite /all/ hope or Mark wouldn't be here, but it felt like there was nothing there to grab, no one to catch him when he fell, and he was going to fall eventually...  
Mark sighed. Things were only getting worse. Even though Amelia couldn't hurt him right now, the other two spirits had doubled down on their efforts to destroy him. Delilah was constantly whispering to Mark, telling him he didn't deserve food; he deserved pain, suffering, hatred. She clawed at his skin and tore at his clothes. She threatened, tried to get him to cut. He was still holding out, but it was hard when she promised relief from the pain she caused daily. He just had to cause a little of his own.  
Annie was almost worse, keeping him up all night with her worries, planting fears in his head, telling him who was talking about him behind his back, who secretly hated him. She tore into his mind, made him paranoid, anxious, closed off from any support.  
And Jack was no help, but that was Mark's fault, since he never told the Irishman anything. Besides, what was Jack supposed to do about it? Mark had three serious mental disorders along with three horrible ghosts haunting him. How was Jack supposed to fix that?  
He wasn't sure anyone could. All he could do was try to hold on, avoid relapsing, make it through another day, and hope that maybe it would change.


	11. Deep Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning
> 
> Mark was fine, really. He was always fine right after he cut.

Mark was fine, really. He was always fine right after he cut. That was why he did it, because it made him fine again. With the ghosts more active than they'd ever been, Mark needed a bit of fine, so he turned to his razor and let it ease the pain.

"You promised."

And he had promised. Mark promised a lot of things, but was known to make promises he couldn't keep. Why had Jack expected him to keep this one? It was no different than any other promise. But Jack sounded so hurt, he looked so hurt as he helped Mark clean up. 

"You need to see someone."

He didn't, he was fine.

"Mark, this isn't a choice anymore. I'm not going to lose you. You're going to see a therapist."

He really didn't want to, what if it got out?

"Then it gets out. I don't care. You're more important."

No.

"It's not a choice. I'm giving you three days to call someone and get an appointment set up. If you do it yourself then you can pick anyone you want, but if you leave it go, I'll pick for you." 

And Mark remembered the card he'd found. And Mark thought for a very long time. He looked up the name, where she held appointments, read some client reviews. She seemed perfect, exactly what he was looking for. Jack must've really done his homework before leaving the card for Mark to find.

But Mark wasn't sure... He didn't know if this was the right choice. What if it did get out? What if his fans found out he needed a therapist? Mark wasn't sure he could go through with this. He was sure he could convince Jack not to sign him up against his will. But what if he really did need this? 

"You promised."

And he had. But he couldn't keep that promise, such a simple promise... He'd promised he wouldn't kill himself either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry you guys had to wait so long for such a short chapter, but the next one is the last one, and then it's done!


	12. Reality

This had to be a mistake. Mark had clearly made the wrongs decision. The ghosts were never all in one place like this, and they rarely left Mark's house, but they were here. Even more unsettling was the fact that they weren't doing anything to him. They were just standing there in a semicircle, watching. Did they want him to leave?  
"It's Mark, yes?" The woman sitting on the left side of the room asked.  
"Yeah."  
"I believe we spoke on the phone?"  
Mark nodded. They had. It was so much easier over the phone.  
"Alright, why don't you sit down?"  
Mark eyed the chair warily, like sitting down would start something he'd never be able to stop. He didn't sit.  
"You said you had depression, anorexia, and anxiety?"  
Mark nodded.  
"Can you list your symptoms?"  
He could, and he did, one by one. Something changed with each word. Mark didn't know what, but it felt different.  
"Alright, have you been suicidal in the last twenty four hours? I just want to make sure you're safe."  
"Yes."  
"Yes you've been suicidal?"  
Mark nodded.  
"Are you suicidal now?"  
He thought about it.  
"No, I don't think so."  
"Alright. You can stand if you're more comfortable that way, but you're make than welcome to sit down."  
Mark looked from the chair to the ghosts, unsure. Maybe he should go.  
"Have you ever had any hallucinations? Do you see or hear things that I wouldn't hear or see?"  
Mark thought about that.  
"No, I don't think so."  
"Alright, is it okay if I fill out a few forms with you?"  
Mark nodded and she moved to her desk to get the paperwork. He turned back to the chair. It would be... Final, if he sat down. He would be at his first therapy appointment, all those mental illnesses would be real. But... Weren't they already? Wasn't this the world he lived in? He had these disorders, he had to live with them. But... Mark could choose to do something about it. He was sick of letting these ghosts push him around. He could choose to leave, walk away now and hang himself, or he could stay and fight this. Mark could fight back against his illnesses. He looked at the chair, and he decided. Mark sat down.  
The gamer looked around in terror at the ghosts as the closed in. He'd messed up. They were going to kill him. But... But they didn't. They reached for each other, each girl taking the other's hands. They looked at Mark and smiled. They looked happy, at peace as they faded away, like a black and white photograph fades out to nothing.  
"Mark, are you okay?"  
"Y-Yeah... Yeah, I'm fine. You said we had to do paperwork?"  
"Yes, sorry. It's just medical history and alcohol consumption. That sort of thing." She smiled.  
"Alright." He took the pen.  
And Mark knew he had a long way to go; a long, hard road ahead of him. But he also knew he had the most amazing friends and family to get him through it. So he could fight, he would fight. If not for him then for Jack, and Amelia, and Delilah, and Annie. This was his life, whether he liked it or not, so Mark was going to make it the best damn life anyone had ever seen.  
It really wasn't a surprise when he told his viewers. They'd known something was off all along, and they couldn't wait to support him in any way they could. It was crazy how fast things could turn around, Mark realized as he signed at the bottom of the form. But hey, that was just reality, and Mark loved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go! I hope you all enjoyed this story, and I hope to see you all in future works! This was very therapeutic for me, and I'm glad we were able to go through it together, whether you read this as it was posted or read it later on. I really do appreciate it, thanks so much for reading!!!!!


End file.
